Spruced Up

Spruced Up
:
A Maid in LA Holiday Novella
(Book #3)
by Holly Jacobs

The characters and events in this story are fictitious.  Any similarities to real people, living or dead, is coincidence and not intended by the author.

Copyright 2013 Holly Fuhrmann

Dedication:

This story is dedicated to everyone who’s ever gone home for the holidays.  Whether you’re the friend who stayed in town, or the friend who left town—whenever friends get together, it’s definitely a coming home.  And on that note, this one’s especially for Laurel, Mary Kay, and Betty Lou…I always enjoy our homecoming get-togethers!

Thanks to everyone at
Erie Times-News
and
GoErie.com
who generously allowed me to add a fictional article about Quincy to their very real paper.  The Erie Time-News is the paper that’s waiting on my front porch every morning.  I sit down and share my morning coffee with the Time’s Public Editor, Liz Allen, and all her colleagues who work there. 
And a special thanks to Jennifer Northrup for help with the doctor’s office info.  Any circumstances or information that was stretched is my fault!

Note from Holly:
I’ve heard from a lot of readers how much they enjoyed the ‘reviews’ in the first two Maid in LA Books.  My family helped me with the ones for Steamed.  My Duet friends showed their comedic roots by helping with reviews for Dusted.  Since this is a Christmas novella, I knew just who to go to for ‘reviews’ for Spruced Up!

Reviews:

“I fell in love with Quincy Mac when I learned she was once almost the spokeswoman for Dazzling Smile toothpaste.  I have a fondness for great stories, for toothpaste…and for teeth.”
  ~Hermey, Dentist to the North Pole
“I’m jolly and happy to see you’re setting this holiday novella in Erie, Pennsylvania.  The words Lake Effect Snow are music to my family’s ears—not that snowpeople have ears—and Erie weathermen and women use that term a lot.  Oh, and
Spruced Up
is a fun story, too.”
  ~Frosty the Snowman
"I'm so glad to see your are finally making use of the typewriter I gave you when you were five. You've been so good this year, I think I'll bring you that Commodore 64 you've been asking for, Holly. Love that name.”
  ~Santa Claus (and thanks to Santa’s friend, Phyllis, for sending this review along!)
“My nose isn’t the only thing glowing after reading Holly’s
Spruced Up
, so is this review!  A glowing review…get it??  (I’ve found people humor is very different from the reindeer games I’m used to, so I wanted to be sure you understood that was funny.)  Anyway, the story shined…or shone…or…  I’m just a reindeer, so I’m not sure about the grammar, but let’s just say,
Spruced Up
was holiday fun!”
~Rudolph, The Red-Nosed Reindeer
“Not a big mystery, but an awful lot of Christmas spirit…a touching story.”
~Ebenezer Scrooge (Holly said this should be a funny review but even though I discovered my Christmas spirit, I still don’t have much of a funny bone.)

Spruced Up: A Maid in LA Holiday Novella
(Book #3)
By Holly Jacobs
Table of Contents

Dear Reader
Chapter One
Chapter Two
Chapter Three
Chapter Four
Chapter Five
Chapter Six
Epilogue
Excerpt from Book #1 Steamed
Excerpt from Book #2 Dusted
Bio
Other Books Available for Kindle

I am a writer who likes to stick close to home, both in real life and in my books.  But in the Maid in LA Mystery series, I moved the setting to Los Angeles and Hollywood.  My friend Dee J. Adams has been very generous in making sure I stay pretty close to the facts.  She patiently answered all my e-mails and stupid questions for the first book (
Steamed
) and second book (
Dusted
) in the series.  Well, Dee, you’re off the hook in this one because Quincy’s coming home to Erie, PA for Christmas.  This is a town I can speak about with authority.  From our Presque Isle peninsula that juts out into Lake Erie, to the bayfront that sits at the foot of State Street and from the downtown area, to the Millcreek Mall area that sprawls along Peach Street.  I grew up here.  I love it here.  I love setting most of my books here. And I’m thrilled to bring Quincy here.

Yes, Quincy’s come home to the city
by the bay…a city that is one of the snowiest cities in the US.  (Look up the stats…we’re there.)  Now, after solving a murder, and then solving an art theft/forgery mystery, Quincy’s ready for a vacation.  But it seems that an article in the local paper has made her a mini-celebrity in her hometown.  And some missing medical supplies throw another mystery in her lap…just in time for the holiday.  This is a novella, but though the mystery is a small one, it’s an important one in the Maid in LA series.  It helps move Quincy’s story arc forward.

For writers, characters can become real, and Quincy is that for me.  So from Quincy, the entire Maid in LA Mystery gang, and from me as well: Merry Christmas, Happy Holidays, Happy Chanukah, Merry Kwanza, Season’s Greetings, Super Solstice…basically, whatever holiday you’re celebrating, I hope it’s a lovely one that’s filled with family, friends…and of course a lot of good books.

Thank you so much for making Quincy and her friends such a hit!
 

Holly

Chapter One

“Quincy Mac, you’ve done it.” Lottie Webber screamed as I spotted her in the Erie International Airport.  A giant Christmas tree stood in the corner of the lobby, holiday music played over the speakers, and people were dressed in winter-weather wear.

“Now where are your glasses?” she asked.

I was wearing my warmest coat, which in Erie could be considered a fall coat at best.  I did own Uggs more as a fashion statement than winter wear.  I’d had to dig to the back of my closet to find them when I packed. 

I took in the sights and sounds…I was home.

Before that feeling truly set in
, I was swept into my childhood best friend’s hug—which was well padded by her down coat.  Gone were the two career women we’d grown into.  As we hugged, we were both squealing like we were high school girls again. 

Yeah, it’s not pretty when two women pushing forty act like they’re fourteen, but sometimes it can’t be helped.  It had been years since I’d seen Lottie but she hadn’t changed at all.  Lottie was short and twiggishly built.  With anyone else who was so darned cute, I’d have been tempted to suck in my stomach, but this was Lottie.  I knew she loved me baby-pooch and all.

“I didn’t know that maids get red carpet treatment,” I said when our squealing abated.  “But I still have my glasses.” 

I was pleased I’d thought of those star glasses. Lottie had given them to me so many years ago when I left Erie, Pennsylvania for Hollywood, California. I’d had my bags, my glasses, and dreams of stardom.

I might not be a star, but I’d built a good life in LA.

Still I pulled out the glasses and slipped them on.

Lottie squealed all over again.  “Really, you kept them?  All these years?”

“Of course I did.  Sorry I didn’t ever get to wear them on a red carpet.  They don’t give awards for an almost toothpaste spokesperson.  I missed the fame and fortune boat.”

“Are you kidding?” Lottie reached in her gigantic purse—I mean, my carry-on that held an entire week’s worth of clothes was only slightly bigger than her purse—and pulled out a copy of The Erie Times-News, our local newspaper.  “It was in the paper.”

There I was. My Name.  Above the fold.  Yes, I’d made the front page…of the Local Section.

Erie’s Own Quincy Mac Cleans up Crime in Los Angeles

I read the paper’s online version, GoErie.com, most mornings.  I like to keep up with what was going on back home.  But between packing for myself, and for the boys, who were spending the holiday with their father and Peri, and then the flight across the country, I hadn’t read
the paper in a couple days.
      I skimmed the article.

Move over Sherlock Holmes.  Erie’s got its own super-sleuth, Quincy Mac.
Mac is an Erie native. She’s the daughter of two local, prominent physicians. But rather than following in their footsteps, like her brothers, she moved to Los Angeles.  She did some acting.  Most recently she’s the owner of a successful business.  But cleaning up other people’s homes wasn’t enough for this intrepid entrepreneur.  In her spare time, this maid in LA has solved not only a murder, but also an art heist.…

“Isn’t that awesome, Quincy?” Lottie said, her voice still near squeal pitch.  “Look, there’s your picture.” 

My picture was below the fold.  And where on earth had the paper found it?  It was an old headshot.  I had a toothy grin in it.  My agent at the time told me that smile had convinced the Dazzling Smile’s execs I should be their commercial
’s star.  Maybe that would have made my career.  If only they hadn’t found arsenic in the toothpaste.

“
You have to sign it for me, Quince,” Lottie said.

“Pardon?”  I was still marveling at being compared to Sherlock Holmes.

“I need you to sign my copy of the paper.  You might not be a movie star, but they said you’re writing a screenplay based on the murder you solved?  You hold onto those glasses you might need them yet.”

She thrust the newspaper and a red Sharpie marker at me then she squealed again.

Everyone turned to look at us.  Lottie pointed at me.  “She’s famous.  This is Quincy Mac, Erie’s own Sherlock Holmes, according to the Erie Times-News.  She’s a Hollywood screenwriter.”

“I’m a Hollywood maid,” I said
loudly.

“You’re a Hollywood business owner—a successful business owner.”  She stood there, paper and marker extended.  I
put down my bag and signed away.  A big, flourishing
Quincy Mac, Maid in LA
.

Lottie had always believed in me.  When I said I was going to Hollywood to be
come an actress, she fully expected to see me walking down a red carpet someday.  She didn’t seem to realize that I’d never actually done that.

Lottie and I had been friends since my first day of kindergarten.  She was one of the most big-hearted people I’d ever met.  I’ve seen her give crayons and pencils to schoolmates.  I’ve watched her go buy a drink and sandwich for a homeless person.  And once, a chipmunk ran out in front of her car.  She thought she’d run it over and started to cry.  We had to turn around in a driveway and go back to check.  Thank goodness it was a fast chipmunk.  I don’t think she could have handled it if she’d smooshed it.

That was Lottie—all heart.  The fact that she’d become a nurse was no surprise to anyone who knew her.

Standing in the middle of Erie’s airport, wearing star glasses and signing a newspaper article, I knew without a doubt that I was famous to her.  She’d always see me as a star and never realize I was just a maid.

I handed her the now signed paper and marker, then took off the glasses and slipped them back in my purse.

“Are you ready to go?” I asked because people were still staring at us.  An older lady in the back was actually pointing at me. 

“Definitely.  Your mom gave me the afternoon off since she was going to be in surgery and couldn’t pick you up.”

Lottie worked at my family’s medical practice.  Yes.  Family.  You see, my mother, father, two brothers and their wives were all doctors.  My two sets of grandparents had also been doctors.  The only people in our family who weren’t doctors were me and my Uncle Bill.  Uncle Bill spent two years in jail.  Now, I should mention he went to jail for a crime he didn’t commit but it was a horrible scandal in the family.  Not only was he an ex-con, he had a tattoo.

If I’d come to town in the spring and my mother had sent Lottie, I’d have chalked it up to Mom being embarrassed of me and sending her minions to do her bidding.  But the last few months, things had changed with my mom.  She didn’t harp about my wasting my talent by not becoming a doctor.  She actually seemed impressed that I’d found both a killer and an art thief.  To be honest, she was actually over-the-moon excited by the idea of my screenplay.

Frankly, I think she had a bit of a crush on my writing mentor, Dick Macy.  (Yes, really, rather than use any of the other nicknames for Richard Macy, he went with Dick.  Dick Macy.  Geesh.) 

Lottie and I slogged through the snowy parking lot to her four-wheel drive SUV.  Erie, Pennsylvania was known for a few things.  Its proximity to the Great Lake and Presque Isle peninsula.  The wonderful quality of life it provided its residents.  Its low cost of living.  Its scenic bayfront. 

And it was known for snow.  Lots and lots of snow.

Today’s weather wasn’t quite a blizzard, but there was a steady sheet of snow coming down.

“What’s the weather say?” I asked.  Weather is a stereotypical conversation subject—one that indicates a lack of anything better to talk about.  In Erie, especially in the winter, weather is one of the best things to talk about.  If you don’t like the weather at that moment…wait an hour and it would change.

“Definitely a white Christmas,” she assured me.

I resisted the urge to clap.  I’d lived in LA for my entire adult life and missed white Christmases. 

It was going to be a great holiday.